


Of Cat-boys and Polyester Pants

by drabbleandfluff



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-crack, Catboy!Byakuya, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbleandfluff/pseuds/drabbleandfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji has a surprise for Byakuya, but he is once again surpassed by his captain’s own disclosure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Cat-boys and Polyester Pants

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t seen the omake, this fic is inspired from [ Shinigami Golden 325](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbEL6T9s8rI).

Renji is walking through the halls of the taisha… no, he’s _gliding_ ; as he makes his way toward the Sixth Division’s main offices. He can’t really explain it, the way his hips seem to naturally _push back_ into this fabric with each step he takes. The feel of this strange material-- _polyester_ \-- and these pants-- it’s innate nature to pull and stretch around his thighs, brush up against his calves-- _cup his crotch_.  
  
These pants.  
  
 _Fuck_ ; he definitely needs to get his hands on a _bunch of these_ in other colors. These white ones are _classy_ , no doubt; but he wouldn't mind more casual colors to just 'hang out’ in, either.

  
His step is a bit bouncy, keeping time to the silent beat only he can hear in his head. His hips seem to sway of their own volition, a tempo set ultimately by the caress of synthetic material.  
  
Renji smirks and winks at one of the lower seated ladies passing him in the hallway, _knowing_ her eyes are admiring his unique attire.  
  
In honest truth, it no longer bothers him-- waking up at the Eleventh Division. In _whatever it is_ he happens to be wearing. Regardless of how he had _not been wearing_ it when he had originally shown up there. Used to it all by now; he simply writes it off as being down-wind of the Twelfth Division on Friday nights.  
  
At least this time, he isn’t wearing some kind of poofy half-jacket, or was looking like a bandaged reject from a first–aid commercial.  
  
Or maybe, Renji thinks sardonically, he just needs to find a different (better) place to go drinking.  
  
  
He walks into the empty office with the intention of changing his clothes (or to perchance catch his captain still there), but the office is empty. His eyes fall over to Byakuya’s desk by habit, and there he spies an envelope, marring the otherwise clean surface. Taicho never leaves anything on his desk.  
  
Perhaps it had come in after he’d left.  
  
Renji picks up the envelope, already making the decision to bring it over to the Kuchiki estate. He isn’t sure if his captain would be coming in over the weekend, and he doesn’t want it sitting here for days, if not.  
  
Besides, who knows? Taicho may even like his new pants.  
  
\--  
  
Materializing out of shunpo, Renji touches down outside of Byakuya’s rooms, a small smirk catching his lips at the new revelation of friction racing across his inner thighs.  
  
Yep. _Definitely_ getting more of these pants.  
  
This part of the Estate is darker than usual tonight, only a sparcity of lamps illuminates the master wing. A flicker of doubt halts Renji’s hand from automatically knocking on the door pane.  
  
Was Taicho already asleep?  
  
It would have been unusual for the noble to have turned in before midnight. In fact, Renji had been enlightened that any time before then was fine for him to drop things by. Including himself. Mostly himself.  
  
It was barely past ten at night. Mentally shrugging off the potential of waking the man, Renji raps lightly on the varnished wood. After all, if Taicho were awake, he already knew Renji was here.  
  
“Enter.”  
  
Renji slides open the shoji and walks in, noticing that only a single oil lamp is burning in the large room. It’s a small brass bowl filled with aromatic oil; simple yet elegant, indicative of Byakuya’s taste. A solitary flame burns at its center, casting out soft low light. The majority of the master suite is shrouded in darkness. The double doors opposite are wide open, leading out into the private garden; Renji can feel the reiatsu of his captain in that direction.  
  
“’Evening, Taicho.”  
  
“What brings you here this night, Fukutaicho?”  
  
Sometimes they begin formally, whether Renji is here for business or for _them_. He kind of likes it this way, for some reason. They both know that Renji spends more time here than at his own home, and that his time here is a lot more personal than professional; but Renji attaches importance to the degree of formality, cherishes calling Byakuya by title. No one else will ever be his captain.  
  
No one else can make the address of ‘Captain’ sound like an allusion to sin, either.  
  
  
“I have a missive from the Gotei, Taicho.” He doesn’t say it’s urgent. Or that it even requires Byakuya’s immediate attention. The message is delivered.  
  
Byakuya walks into the room, but stays in the shadows.  
  
“Is that all?” – a lilt of curiosity.  
  
“No, not really,” Renji smiles, “I want to show you something I hope you’ll like...” his voice drifts off in suggestion.  
  
Renji slides the jacket off his shoulders with masculine grace; he turns his back to Byakuya and sticks out a hip, slinging the jacket over his shoulder. The white vest under the jacket is tight, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist; the black shirt collar at his neck enticing, a perfect foreshadowing of the tattoos they hide beneath.  
  
He turns his head back towards his captain, tipping his chin up-- a coy gaze teasing in his eyes, _“...you like?”_ He grins, sharp teeth brightly white, even in the dim lighting.  
  
“Yes,” Byakuya’s deep voice drifts in from the dark; so much _potential_ loaded in that one word, filling the room with heady desire. Renji can already feel it tingling along his skin.  
  
The redhead waits for Byakuya to make a move, expects him to walk up and take hold of him... _touch him_...  
  
His captain stays in the shadows.  
  
Renji turns a quizzical eye to his leader, arching a bold black brow in silent question.  
  
“That is an... _interesting_... outfit, Fukutaicho. Where did you acquire it?”  
  
 _Oookay._  
  
So it seems like this is going to be an _‘ask questions first, shoot later’_ kind of night.  
  
Holding back a small sigh, Renji ‘unstrikes’ his pose, and walks over to Byakuya’s dressing table. “Well…” he begins, hanging the jacket over the back of the chair, “I was over at the Eleventh, drinking with the guys a bit earlier... and we hear an explosion of some sort next door at the Twelfth. One of the lower seats comes around to tell us not to worry-- they’ve got everything under control...” he shrugs, ”and I dunno, maybe an hour or so later, we all feel this strange shiver... the next thing I know, I’m wearing _this_!”  
  
“Hah! You should’ve seen Rukia-- she had on this bizarre ballerina outfit that was just a little bit... _wierd_ ,” Renji’s eyes go wide at the memory, but he laughs all the same -- good-humored affection filling the room.  
  
Noting the accompanying silence, Renji pauses, “-- uh... you okay, Taicho?”  
  
Glancing toward the garden, Renji sees only a reflection of Byakuya’s eyes shining back at him.  
  
Shining back?  
  
Byakuya’s eyes don’t shine in the darkness. No one’s does.  
  
“Taicho?” Concern, _apprehension_ leaks into Renji’s body.  
  
“I was at the Thirteenth Division when the explosion occurred,” Byakuya acknowledges, stepping into the middle of the room. Into the light.  
  
Byakuya is also wearing clothing somewhat similar to his own, but really, that is _not_ what’s taking precedence in Renji’s head.  
  
 _He has to be dreaming_.  
  
No. Seriously.  
  
Renji feels himself flush hot, and then cold-- then hot again. His breath stutters painfully within his chest; as if the air is thick, _too thick_ , and he can’t breathe it in. Like he has to swallow it if he wants to speak.  
  
“Tai... Taicho?... _Byakuya?!”  
_  
His captain has ears.  
  
Furry ears.  
  
 _On the top of his head._  
  
A wraith-like shadow moves behind the brunet; _it twitches._  
  
A tail.  
  
Renji thinks he’s hyperventilating, he thinks (knows) his mouth is open and making crude unintelligible noise; but he can’t stop it.  
  
Looking into Byakuya’s eyes, he recognizes annoyance, mixed with exasperation; a fleeting glimpse of _vulnerability_ , pass across the glowing platinum irises--  
  
He can read his captain now; with ease. Kuchiki taicho is no longer a mystery to Abarai Renji; no longer cryptic. Renji understands everything that is not said by his captain. Comprehends the non-verbal communiqués fundamentally.  
  
He can see it plain as day-- _Byakuya feels exposed._ Insecure.  
  
And it is _his_ job to allay that uncertainty.  
  
Renji makes himself step forward, forces himself to _move, damnit_ ; closing the space between them. “Are you okay, Byakuya? Are you alright?...” his voice straining, even to his own ears.  
  
“Yes.” Dry. Sardonic. _Relieved_. “I have been assured the effects will wear off within a half-day or so. If you had not dropped by this evening, you would not have been witness to such atrocity.”  
  
“What?-- What are you saying? You’re not an atr--”  
  
“Captain Kurotsuchi is a menace and should be thrown back into the Maggot’s Nest for disrupting the--”  
  
As Byakuya continues on; on an unusually emotional rant for the customarily unflappable noble-- Renji finds himself becoming distracted. Those black ears. Move. _They drop_ ; begin to flatten to his captain’s head in irritation, anger. In peevishness.  
  
Oh my god.  
  
Renji wants to reach out and _touch._  
  
Those pointy ears are telegraphing Byakuya’s emotions without the man’s knowledge, or rather, _without his control_. The black shadow that is Byakuya’s tail, whips back and forth in ever increasing force and purpose. Renji can’t tear his eyes away from the white tuft blurring at the end.  
  
Byakuya turns and walks back toward the doors leading out to the garden, still grousing under his breath.  
  
Renji follows closely, and before he can second guess himself (talk himself out of it) he reaches up and runs his thumb across the top of one of Byakuya’s ears.  
  
The hitch in Byakuya’s voice is audible. He comes to a dead stop.  
  
Renji would’ve run into him, had he not been paying attention.  
  
“Renji?...” The ears perk up. And flick backwards.  
  
Oh. _God._ That’s.  
  
Renji groans.  
  
“Taicho,” Renji’s voice is tense for an entirely new reason, “can I touch your ears?”  
  
“Should you not ask _before_ the deed is done, Fukutaicho?” comes the quiet reply.  
  
Renji’s eyes do not leave the cat ears. Which. Do not flatten again.  
  
A grin breaks wide behind his captain’s view.  
  
“Sorry, Taicho... got ahead of myself as usual,” his voice guiltily jovial-- not contrite at all.  
  
Renji raises his other hand and begins to run both thumbs over the tops of Byakuya’s ears; taking Byakuya’s non-refusal on the matter as tacit permission.  
  
The fur is silky smooth and short against the foreign skin beneath. Black as night, those ears are supple and warm, _oh-so warm_. Byakuya’s head tips back ever so slightly-- back into Renji’s touch, which gradually grows bolder. More vigorous.  
  
Renji cups his hands around the ears and uses his whole thumb to massage along the tops, alternating strokes to the ears, _pulling_ Byakuya’s head back into his grip.  
  
He can see Byakuya’s face tipped up like this-- eyes fallen halfway closed, hard muscles of his cheeks and jaw gone soft with pleasure. Then ever so faintly, Renji hears the start of a quiet _humming_ that begins in the back of Byakuya’s throat and dives down deep into his chest.  
  
The man is purring.  
  
 _Yeah_ … That’s it…  
  
Slowly, one hand lets go of a furred ear to move down and around to the front of Byakuya's jaw. There beneath the chin, and along the sharp line where Renji knows Byakuya’s neck is most sensitive, he rubs with the backs of his knuckles.  
  
The response is instantaneous.  
  
Byakuya leans into the touch, _pushes into it_ ; and the droning thrum from his chest bursts loud within the quiet room.  
  
“Byakuya,” Renji groans, leaning forward to nuzzle against the noble’s neck, his voice heavy, “you're beautiful, and so responsive, and I want to...” He pauses abruptly. And pulls back.  
  
Renji stops stroking and pushes Byakuya’s hair away from his nape while the other hand pulls back on the shirt.  
  
A line of short fur begins at the noble’s hairline and disappears down the back of his neck, following his spine... _down.  
  
_ Oh.  
  
Renji feels a punch of heat spike deep in his belly. _Hard_.  
  
How many more surprises? Can he handle them all?  
  
Instinctively, Renji’s hand falls down to the small of Byakuya’s back, an inch or two above what is the tail; and rubs lightly.  
  
Byakuya makes a small sound at the back of his throat; his hips buck imperceptibly. Renji would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. _Waiting_ for it.  
  
Renji takes a few deep breaths. _Fuck_. The possibilities.  
  
“Renji,” Byakuya murmurs, presuming the redhead has come across something too disturbing, even for him, “you need not continue, I... _understand_... if this is out of your comfort zone. It will wear off by the morning.”  
  
A pleased chuckle fills the air.   
  
“ _Oh hell no_ , Byakuya... you’re not getting out of this one.” Renji licks the edge of Byakuya’s ear with a warm wet tongue, “-- you remember that time late last year around the Living’s tradition of All Hallows Eve? Remember when I ended up wrapped up in some kind of bandagey-costumey-thing from another one of the Twelfth’s experiments gone wrong?”   
  
At Byakuya’s nod, Renji continues, voice dropping to a growl imbued with promises of payback-- “and do you remember you took that opportunity to use the wrappings around my arms to tie me to the headboard and _fuck me into the next week?”_ Renji takes the tip of Byakuya’s ear into his mouth-- sucks on it; nibbles the point with sharp teeth, earning himself a groan from the quiet brunet,  
  
“... well, _now it’s your turn_.”  
  
Renji pulls Byakuya around, and running two fingers along a pristine jaw, tips his face up and kisses him, _finally_ , as he’d been wanting to do since he first walked through the door.  
  
Renji’s pulse soars as Byakuya’s mouth opens beneath his, as their tongues tangle; _rub_. Soft and wet, Renji delves. A tilt of the head, and Renji can kiss faster. Deeper. Byakuya tastes like redemption-- like drinking in white light and purity; _home_.   
  
He groans in absolute bliss as Byakuya bites down teasingly on his tongue with suddenly _sharp canines_. Emboldened, Renji kisses more, hungrier. He threads his hands into Byakuya’s hair to hold him in place and _takes_.  
  
His cock begins to fill in his tight, tight polyester pants, and he has a moment to think that, okay maybe, _maybe_... these pants aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.  
  
He breaks off, licking his way down Byakuya’s jaw, down his neck to tight skin pulled over the protruding collar bone.  
  
Byakuya is wearing the same type of Westernized clothes as he is (except not polyester)-- Renji unbuttons the black dress shirt down the front along with the pants in the same motion. He undresses Byakuya quickly, needing, _wanting_ to explore the changes to the noble’s impeccable body before the curse (the magic?) is torn away.  
  
When Byakuya is entirely bare, Renji can’t help but stare. Byakuya appears otherworldly in the dim light. An erotic, _exotic_ mix of stunning male and sleek feline.  
  
“Turn around,” -- he gruffs, an almost demand.  
  
Byakuya tips his head so very slightly to the side, his ears perk up _gradually_. An elegantly tapered brow as well.  
  
Fuck. _Those ears are gonna be the death of him.  
  
_ “Please.”  
  
Byakuya gives his fukutaicho an indulging smirk as he slowly... _slowly_... turns his back.  
  
Renji, hands busy stripping off his own clothes, has to pause; balanced on one foot while the other leg is still trapped in the pants. He just about falls over himself.  
  
He sees it.  
  
“Oh. Oh fuck... that’s. _Byakuya_.” Renji’s tongue is _not_ working, “I...” he breathes; licking lips gone incredibly dry.  
  
A downy stripe of fine black fur lines the center of Byakuya’s back. It spills past the edge of ink-black hair; accentuating, almost softening, the ever-straight aristocratic spine, and veers into becoming the extra appendage.  
  
Byakuya has a cat’s tail-- midnight black and tipped in white. And it is swaying back and forth.   
  
In a very lazy, very hypnotic manner.  
  
Renji reaches out to run his hand down Byakuya’s back. _Both hands_ ; on every bit of skin or fur that he can reach. Not to pet it, he thinks to himself; but to _learn it._ Learn the feel of it against his skin. He watches avidly, as the muscles under his fingers tense and shift, as the noble spine sways into his touch.  
  
He hears Byakuya sigh, _with pleasure_.  
  
Renji steps in, wraps Byakuya in an embrace so that his chest is flush against Byakuya’s back. He feels the twitch of the tail thumping between his legs, brushing the inside of his thighs...  
  
Renji drops his mouth to Byakuya’s shoulder, bites softly at the smooth skin; moves to the nape, where he can lick along the edge of the soft fur starting there.  
  
“You do not mind this, Renji?” Byakuya asks yet again, albeit distractedly.  
  
“Fuck no, Byakuya...” he breathes in deeply, inhaling Byakuya’s scent, letting it fill his nose, his mouth; headier tonight than usual, “you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy...” he sucks to bruise an alabaster shoulder, “... _fuck_ , I wanna go Bankai just so we can be furries together--”  
  
Renji feels Byakuya go absolutely still.  
  
Then a graceful snort whispers through the room as Byakuya leans into Renji’s touch, “You. Never cease to amaze me.”  
  
“Never,” he assures.  
  
Renji thumbs down Byakuya’s spine. At the small of Byakuya’s back he feels again, the pause in the noble’s breath as he strokes _that_ spot.  
  
Grinning just a little too wide, even for his own sake, Renji scratches there with blunt fingernails.  
  
 _Purring_ ; deep from within Byakuya’s chest, vibrates into Renji. Slim hips shove back against the redhead’s groin. Renji mouths along the pulse beating hard and fast along the lean noble neck; he sucks on the smooth skin-- never halting the scratch of his fingers.  
  
Byakuya’s hips are insistent, pushing… _pushing_. One of his hands drops to the back of Renji’s thigh and pulls him in tighter; begins to knead with steely fingers. The other rises to thread into Renji’s hair, loosening the band that keeps it tied. As crimson strands fall across them both, Byakuya stretches; arches his back and tilts his neck in acquiescence.  
  
Renji moves them over to the bed; pushes Byakuya forward-- covers him from behind. Byakuya goes down easily, propping himself on hands and knees. Renji takes that opportunity to grasp Byakuya’s chin, indulges that luscious heated mouth once again in an achingly slow kiss. Good. _So good_.  
  
Hands trace over lean ribs, down muscled flanks and thighs. Renji runs a hand down along the stripe of fur, this time not stopping, but stroking up through the tail, his hand making a fist as the appendage tapers away.  
  
 _“Renji...”_ Byakuya holds back a tight moan in his throat. Voice is low and raw, “Do that again.”  
  
And so he does. Again.  
  
And again.  
  
Watches as Byakuya’s hips lift.  
  
Offers.  
  
Renji leans forward, and licks the muscles at the base of the tail, works his tongue against the crease between noble skin and silky fur. He feels it tighten, hears the surprised groan in Byakuya’s breath.  
  
And _knows._  
  
Renji licks. Soft. _Wet._ Heat. Across and down Byakuya’s muscled cheeks, nips and sucks at the smooth sleek skin. His tongue ventures, down... _down.  
  
_  
Wordless noise from above, aching and grasping for control; Byakuya groans-- his knees widening; his hips beginning to fall---  
  
Renji runs his hand down Byakuya’s back, and scratches _there_.  
  
And those hips lift high again.  
  
Wet. _Slippery_. Renji licks and moves-- the shadowed cleft beneath the tail, the soft, soft skin even lower still; sensitive to his heated tongue. He nips with his lips, softening the touch to tease.  
  
His tongue traces nonsense patterns over the smooth expanse of unblemished skin. Renji’s mouth opens wide to sink teeth into a creamy white inner thigh; stays for a moment to suck, to bruise there, too. He growls in response to a whimper from above (he doesn’t dare tempt himself to call it a _mewl_ )... then he moves back up-- his tongue blazing a trail to his ultimate destination. He laves; slick and wet, up and down over Byakuya’s opening, feels it tense against his mouth.  
  
He wraps his fingers around the base of Byakuya’s tail and scratches once again--  
  
Feels the rise of hips--  
  
and sinks; pushes his tongue _in._  
  
A breathless cry tears from Byakuya’s throat-- Renji feels more than sees the drop of that onyx head onto the bed, the hands that give way to elbows, perhaps a shoulder.  
  
Groaning, he tongues his way in deeper.  
  
As he opens Byakuya up, feels the man relax and _just go with it_ ; Renji begin to thrust, flicks his tongue to tease the walls.   
  
He rides him.  
  
With his tongue.  
  
… _and it is decadent._  
  
Renji continues, until Byukuya is soft and wet and writhing against his mouth.  Renji makes a noise, gratuitous and loud; an opulence of rapture. Fever-high arousal, the awakening of something more, inside; it all bursts from his chest-- aching from his heart to his cock.  
  
Oh god, his poor neglected cock. One stroke and he would be done for.  
  
 _He needs in.  
  
_ Renji eases up and out.  
  
 _Lube.  
  
_ At the head of the bed, the night stand seems so far away.  
  
Looking off to the side, Renji catches sight of the oil lamp within reach; knows the scented burner houses grape seed oil and other innocuous fragrances. Leaning over to stick a few fingers into the open bowl, he hisses at the hotter-than-warm temperature. Renji lets it cool a second on his fingers before slicking himself. Nothing he can’t endure.  
  
In fact-- _it’s nice_. Heated oil on his dick; just warm enough to ease the heavy turgid weight without being too hot. He fists his cock tight and slow-- working the oil-- taking the edge off-- massaging his balls and moaning with relief.  
  
He sticks his fingers back into the oil, holding them there longer this time before pulling out. With less hesitation, he brushes the oil quickly over Byakuya and slides two fingers _right in_. Immediately, he can feel that his fingers are hotter than the man himself.  
  
Can only imagine _how good_ that must feel.  
  
Knows it; from sounds coming from Byakuya’s mouth. As Renji pumps his fingers in… _in_ … he can see the man is struggling, choking back the noises being pulled; _forced out_ , past the noble throat – _clenching_ ; swallowing-- sound escaping. Breathing. Panting. _Gasping_.  
  
Renji looks down toward the bed, watches as precome leaks from Byakuya’s cock; a thin spill of slippery mess pooling on the silk sheets… and he so desperately wants to catch that elixir on his tongue.  
  
Distractedly, he realizes that syllables and _words_ are coming from Byakuya’s mouth… not simply noise and sound.  
  
..do it.  
  
 _Come on…_  
  
Take.  
  
Renji.  
  
 _Renji…  
  
_  
And it’s not as if Renji can put it off, even if he wants to.  
  
He kneels up, cock in one hand; hard grip on a pristine hip with the other, a squeeze-- and Renji leans _in.  
  
_ First slow push knocks the air out of his chest; makes part of his mind burn away. He can’t think, can’tthink; _can’t fuckin breathe._  
  
Tight snug _incredible_ heat against the head of his cock; pulling him in… and oh god. Oh. _God._ Renji’s hips thrust instinctively, pressing, driving in.  
  
He feels Byakuya push back; wanting it, _wanting more_ …  
  
He moves _hard_. Deep. Speeding up with every stroke; each successive thrust deeper; tearing a grunt, a rough cry from his tattooed throat. Back-thrust pulls away coherent thought, stroke back in-- and _fuck_ ; he _needs_ it so much, Renji feels it fall from his eyes.  
  
The sweat pours down his skin, traversing tan and black. Words. Byakuya, _Byakuya_ … a mantra in his head; of his hips. The beat of his heart. He is drowning.  Drowning in heat. He doesn’t know how he got here from where he began. All Renji knows now is that he will never let go. Never let it get past him. Never let it die.  
  
Renji leans forward; covers his captain’s back, drapes himself over his lover, embraces his soul mate and lets the fire consume him.  
  
Too soon for his liking, because fuck, he can _be_ here, _wants_ to be here--  a tightening of his balls shoots white lighted rapture up his spine; blinding his eyes with darkness. He comes with Byakuya’s name on his lips, like a prayer of salvation.  
  
Pulling out, he flips Byakuya onto his back and simply _goes down_. Swallows the silk covered steel of noble cock to the sound of a shout. _Sucks on it_. Milks it in his throat until he is dizzy, until he feels hands pull at his hair, fingers dig into his scalp, wrap around his neck; _hold him down_ \-- and tastes the salt-saccharine eruption in his mouth.  
  
Breath is beyond him.  
  
  
Renji crawls up Byakuya’s supine form. Byakuya is drenched, gasping for air. So is he. Renji has a moment’s pride knowing he did this… but it’s quickly replaced by simple emotion. Love. Gratitude. Joy.  
  
Renji falls to one side, pulling Byakuya in close. Sticky. _Sticky_. Hot. He knows there’s no way they’re going to be comfortable sleeping like this, but right now… _yeah_. He’s not moving.  
  
“Byakuya,” voice hoarse, unable to produce any louder sound, “if you’re still like this in the morning, I’ll get you a bowl of cream…” he smugly promises while long fingers find the soft ears once again.  
  
“I do not doubt you will…” a lazy reply. Byakuya’s hand drifts down Renji’s sweaty arm, sweaty abdomen, _sweaty everything_ suggestively, scraping tapered digits through wiry red hair, “but you will not have to leave the bed to give it to me...”  
  
Renji chuckle- _groans_ , as his dick twitches at the suggestion, but stays lax-- “oh _god_ , you’re a dirty old man, you know that?” He smiles, and looks into dark slate eyes falling closed in satiation, knows Byakuya can’t fight the exhaustion-- neither of them can.  
  
A yawn. “Indeed.”  
  
Renji rubs just a bit more on the ears as Byakuya tucks his head down and nuzzles into Renji’s chest; all but _drapes himself_ over the redhead and his intoxicating heat.  
  
Do cats cuddle?  
  
Renji falls asleep to the sound of soft purring.


End file.
